Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/259

990—1038 To combat; strength is of the gods alone."

These words the hero's angry mind assuage; Then fierce they mingle where the thickest rage.

Around Polydamas, distained with blood,

Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthæus, stood;

Palmus, with Polypœtes the divine,

And two bold brothers of Hippotion's line,

Who reached fair Ilion, from Ascania far,

The former day; the next, engaged in war.

As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind springs,

That bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful wings,

Wide o'er the blasted fields the tempest sweeps,

Then, gathered, settles on the hoary deeps;

The afflicted deeps tumultuous mix and roar;

The waves behind impel the waves before,

Wide-rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore:

Thus rank on rank the chief battalions throng,

Chief urged on chief, and man drove man along:

Far o'er the plains in dreadful order bright,

The brazen arms reflect a beamy light.

Full in the blazing van great Hector shined,

Like Mars commissioned to confound mankind.

Before him flaming, his enormous shield,

Like the broad sun, illumined all the field;

His nodding helm emits a streamy ray;

His piercing eyes through all the battle stray,

And, while beneath his targe he flashed along,

Shot terrors round, that withered even the strong.

Thus stalked he dreadful; death was in his look;

Whole nations feared; but not an Argive shook.

The towering Ajax, with an ample stride,

Advanced the first, and thus the chief defied:

"Hector! come on, thy empty threats forbear:

'Tis not thy arm, 'tis thundering Jove, we fear:

The skill of war to us not idly given,

Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but heaven.

Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts

To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts.

Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall,

Your boasted city, and your god-built wall,

Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground;

And spread a long unmeasured ruin round.

The time shall come, when, chased along the plain,

E'en thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain;

E'en thou shalt wish, to aid thy desperate course,

The wings of falcons for thy flying horse;

Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior's fame,

While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame."

As thus he spoke, behold, in open view,